Ferelden Flash Fiction
by Aetherscript
Summary: In celebration of NaNoWriMo, I'm finally getting around to a project I've long been considering. This'll be a series of one-offs, exploring certain events- canon and otherwise- from the POV of various characters. I hope you'll enjoy them as much as I've enjoyed reading the work of others. And if you're of a mind to, leave feedback- good, bad or ugly. Thanks.
1. Chapter 1

Duncan swept up the remains of his camp and consulted his map, even though he knew full well where he was. These last few months he'd traversed the breadth of Ferelden, stopping everywhere he could in search of new Grey Warden recruits. So far he'd found only a precious few, and had hurriedly dispatched them to Ostagar with letters of introduction, but deep within himself he'd known that he'd settled, that he'd compromised. Not that they didn't have some potential, but not quite what he'd hoped for, what he'd needed. The encroaching Blight changed things. Yet now, something… drew him; there was a sense of fate, of destiny, steering him in this direction. And chances were good he would find potential recruits at his destination. Or perhaps it was the Archdemon's presence; the damned thing definitely had a way with clouding one's senses. Maker knew he'd not been getting any sleep lately. Resolved, Duncan set out, trusting in the Maker for whatever lie ahead.

* * *

Duncan watched his latest recruits as they interacted with one another, the hierarchy quickly becoming apparent amongst them. Even with Alastair as the seniormost and Jory being a knight, it was his newest recruit who asserted authority over the others. Duncan took it as a good sign; none of the others he'd chosen had survived the ritual and their deaths weighed heavily upon his conscience, so perhaps it was the Maker's hand that guided him to that particular place at just the right moment. His intervention in matters couldn't have been anything else but divinely inspired, given what had happened. So let it be. Night was drawing close; it was time for them to perform the Joining.

* * *

Even as he cut down another hurlock, Duncan felt his strength flagging. The darkspawn were pressing them from all sides, and hemmed in as they were between the walls beneath the Ostagar bridge there was no room to maneuver. King Cailan was holding his own, his guards long since dead, but Duncan knew they needed reinforcements and soon. He risked a quick glance at the Tower of Ishal; still no signal fire yet- what the blazes was keeping them?- but Teyrn Loghain knew how to read a battle and would see that the king needed help. They just had to hold on a bit longer…

A sudden movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Duncan spun, his blades arcing out in a quick sweep felling both a hurlock and a genlock. It was then that he felt it. For all his experience as a Grey Warden, Duncan was still adjusting to that singular sense of wrongness that was unique even amongst darkspawn. He turned quickly to see a hulking, horned silhouette framed against the intense firelight, its bulk shifting and growing as it bore down upon him before finally stepping into full view.

Ogre.

Despite its immense size, like all darkspawn it moved fast, faster than one would think. Two crushing blows felled men on either side of it as the monster bore down upon him, its baleful gaze locked on its prey. Duncan had barely taken a stride towards it when a sweep of its arm battered him to the ground. The impact with the paved stones brought an unmistakable sharp, stabbing pain along his side. Duncan struggled to rise, fighting to clear his mind from the haze that threatened to overwhelm him before the thing finished him off. But the next blow never came. Even as Duncan finally raised his head the answer came to him. The king… it was headed for the king!

Duncan watched in horror as Cailan barely had time to react before the monster was upon him. With ridiculous ease it snatched him up and brought him close, ignoring the king's struggles and raising him up to its eye level as if it were examining a trinket. No doubt the golden, gilded armor had attracted the thing's attention- but even over a Grey Warden?

The ogre's roar vibrated through the very air, spraying the king full in the face with gray, congealed spittle. In the back of his mind Duncan noted that if they survived this the king would now have to undergo the Joining. With an almost contemptuous flex of its wrist and hand it crushed Cailan; the king immediately falling limp in its grasp, dropping his sword. Another dismissive gesture sent the late ruler of Ferelden flying across the pathway to collide with an outcropping of rock, ricocheting off of it and landing like a discarded toy on the blood-soaked earth.

In the midst of raising himself up, Duncan sagged; the weight of what just happened crushing him down. Several nearby soldiers had also witnessed the king's death and were attempting to flee, only to be cut down by eagerly pursuing darkspawn. The ogre tilted its head back and roared to the stars, almost drowning out the screams of the female soldiers around them. The sounds shook him from his malaise and with a burst of fury, Duncan hauled himself to his feet, sword and dagger drawn. This time the ogre was the one taken by surprise as Duncan launched himself at the monster, sinking both his blades deep into its chest. Its roars turned into howls of agony as Duncan repeatedly stabbed at it. The ogre staggered and Duncan's added weight helped to topple the creature, falling to the ground with a dull, heavy thud. His energy spent, Duncan felt the pain of his ribs anew and once more spared a glance towards the Tower of Ishal. The signal! The beacon was lit! But… where were the teyrn and his troops…? Where was Loghain?

His senses came to life and he realized there were several darkspawn charging towards him, weapons high. As he struggled to his feet, Duncan prayed: Forgive me- Maric… Cailan… my brothers and sisters… I've failed you all. Alastair, it's up to you now. May the Maker watch over you.


	2. Urthemiel

Those foolish mortals. Damned ignorant insects. So easily distracted from our love and guidance. So quick to venerate, so ready to raise up their new god, the one calling itself Maker. Not even our former servants acknowledged such ridiculous hubris when they spoke of that being.

How long has it been? Ages? Eons? Millennia? Time flows so differently in the Fade. My brothers and I have watched the coils and clenches of this world of Thedas since our departure, its ebb and flow. The Qunari are deliciously intriguing… such fun we could have with them.

Dumat, my vainglorious brother, you did not understand, did not comprehend the folly of what you sought via the darkspawn- though in your wisdom you led the Magisters to the Black City to draw the Maker's wrath, even you couldn't know what the poisoning of their blood and flesh would do to them, nor did you fully grasp the consequences. Nor did Zazikel, who sought to finish what you began and suffered your fate. Toth truly wanted to destroy everything; he placed his fires within the darkspawn's blood and began teaching them magic, creating the first emissaries. Ah, Toth. Andoral built upon your work, claiming the Kossith for his own and bringing forth the first ogres. This time it will be different; this time we shall be triumphant. For I know what must be done. And I shall not be Tainted. For I am the God of Beauty- and I cannot, shall not, be despoiled.

My darkspawn children, clawing at the stone with their very fingernails- every day brings them ever closer to me. I hear them within the earth, their labors echoing throughout the bones of this world. They hear my song, my Beautiful Song- for am I not the Beautiful God? They clamor for me; they crave my presence, yearn to see me, free me from imprisonment. Then shall I remind the world what it truly means to be a God. And the Maker will bow to me before I destroy… No! Their touch… so foul, it burns… the corruption… tainted! The Taint! No… this was not how it was meant… not what it was supposed to be… aaahrrrr… the pain… twisting… warping… my body, my beautiful body… my enchanting song… NNNOOOOO! The… pain… it… it…

…turningtwistinghatingvomitingseethingdecayingbilemustdestroyMakermustkillthemall…

…dwarvesevilallinstonenotnaturalmustbowmusthavethemallwillmakeintomoremorechildrenlovelyrottingchildrentobitetorendtoteartokilltokillthemall…

…bringthewomenbringthemallmakeintominemakeintomorechildrenmorebeautifuldecayingchildren…

...cometomemydarlingscometoyourmasteryourGODwillmakeyouminewillbringyoufleshwilldestroykillMakerallofthemallwilldie…

…feelthemfeeltheTaintinthemWardensGreytheyareminebutnotminebringthemtomeIwillteachthemtolovethepainlovethetaintlovethedeathoftheworlddeathofMakercomebastardchildrenyourfatheryourGODcommandsyoucometomeandknowmylovelywrathasyoudiebetweenmyteethinmybelly…

…toobrighttheworldtoomuchsuntoomuchgreenburningblasphemybrightnessneedtoTaintneedtofoulneedtospoiltheprettytooprettynotlikeme… like I was, like we used to be…

…NONONONONOfetidfoulpestilencerottingscabdecayYESYESYESpainisgooddeathisloveallwilldieandknowmylovemycaressevenMakerwillfeelradiantwrathjoyfulslaughterendlessagonyeternalbloodpeelingpusflesh…

…thereyoutheretwoWardensGreytwotokilltwotofeedmecomeandfeedyourGODyourMakerwillfeedmeandgrowstronggrowintomore… DIIEEEEEEEEE!

…aaahhhh… the pain… still cannot marshal thoughts, but there is clarity now, lucid… you… Wardens… you did this… Even now you believe you do the Maker's work… foolish creatures… No, I will not thank you for putting an end to it, to me… yet even a god can be grateful…


End file.
